Subscribe

Archives

“Susan, you’re wrong.”

“Oh, none taken,” I said as I rolled my eyes, leaned back into the booth and stretched my legs out. I took a long pull on my beer and waited. The evening had started to get interesting.

“Oh good. I mean, I know what I’m talking about and it would be good for you to listen to me.”

I snorted. “Oh, trust me Thomas, I am all ears,” I said and flashed the most brilliant smile that I could while I mentally chastised myself for agreeing to this blind date.

Thomas seemed like a nice man. Actually, he was. He was nice looking and had a profitable landscaping business and was considered quite a catch. He had been divorced for over a year and had decided to start dating again at the age of 50. It’s a tough thing to do for anyone at that age. Shit, it’s a tough thing at any age.

He apparently had seen me at a party a few weeks ago. I was there but only for a few minutes. I had stopped by my friend’s house to drop off a book and stayed for a quick drink before hitting the road for the weekend. He had asked who I was. My friend had agreed to call me for him and the rest, as they say, is history.

Sitting across from him at the restaurant, I had spent most of the evening listening to him tell me about his business, how successful it was and then the gory details of his divorce.

Rule #1 when dating – never, EVER discuss your ex. Ever. Shoot yourself in the foot and drink bleach before you even go near it. If you feel the urge to say something, stick a sharp object in your eye before uttering one word.

You will make a better impression with a steak knife hanging out of your eye than you will in slamming your ex.

For the love of God, trust me on this one.

But I had been polite and listened and nodded when it seemed appropriate and prayed that one of us would suddenly come down with severe food poisoning and have to leave.

But now, after hearing about what a bitch his ex was, he now felt entitled to tell me how to run my business.

I was suddenly fascinated in watching a train wreck unfold before my eyes.

I took another long pull of my beer and hoped it would hit my blood stream at any second and give me that warm, fuzzy and giggling moment that would make all of this seem like fun.

“Well, I’m glad that you are listening. So, the first thing you need to do with your job is admit the fact that you are somewhat limited because you are a woman.”

I choked on my beer. No, really, I actually did choke. I’m not making this up. I coughed and quickly put my hand over my nose and pinched my nostrils before it came out. That’s the worse thing when a beverage comes out of your nose and it’s carbonated. It hurts.

I grabbed a napkin and wiped my nose with it.

“So, Thomas, what you’re saying is because I have breasts and a uterus, I somehow can’t do my job as well as….a man? Is that right?”

“Yes, but it’s not your fault. I mean, it is just the way you were born. Oh, you have nice breasts, by the way.”

I looked down at my chest. I pulled my shirt out and kept looking. Yep, there they were. I still had them. I looked up at him and back down at my breasts. I pushed my shirt back towards my chest and smiled.

“So maybe if I got rid of them, I could be more…intelligent? Is that because I know when I try to think, all the blood rushes towards them?”

His smile froze on his face. He furrowed his brow. He thought for a moment and a confused look came over his face.

“What? Huh? That just…are you serious….I mean that doesn’t make any sense. Oh wait, you’re kidding, right?” he said and started laughing.

“No. I’m not. When I try to think, my breasts grow. Just like when you try to think and your dick gets hard. Same thing, ya know?”

“No! Wait! You aren’t making any sense.”

“Well neither are you. You just sat here and told me how wrong I am in the way I run my business, which you know nothing about, and then said it’s because I’m a woman as if that is some sort of disability or defect.”

“No, that’s not what I meant. I mean it’s because women get all emotional and it will get in the way of your judgement. You’re twisting my words here and I don’t like that.”

“Sorry, I don’t mean to twist your words. I’m trying to think and my breasts are getting bigger by the second and I am feeling a bit suffocated by them, so it’s probably the lack of oxygen going to my brain. I think I may be brain-damaged from my breasts,” I said.

I was pinching myself under the table to stop myself from laughing.

This was too much fun.

“Brain damaged? What are you talking about?”

“Thomas, now how can I answer a question about being brain-damaged IF I’M BRAIN DAMAGED? How is that supposed to work, huh?”

He rubbed his eyes and looked around.

“OK, I think I’ve gotten off on the wrong foot here…”

“No, you haven’t. You’re fine. I’m the one with the emotional breasts, remember?”

“Stop talking about your breasts! That’s not what I meant!” he said. His voice was loud and he was annoyed with me.

“What? You don’t like my breasts now? What’s wrong with them?”

“THERE’S NOTHING WRONG WITH YOUR BREASTS!” His voice was loud enough that several people turned and looked at him. A couple of men then looked at me and then at my breasts and gave me a thumbs up. I waved back at them, smiled and gave them a thumbs up.

“Thomas, now don’t start getting emotional on me. Pretty soon, you’ll be acting like a woman and embarrass me,” I said.

I stood up, got my purse and finished the last of my beer.

“Where are you going? You’re leaving? But I wanted to tell you more about what you should be doing with your business.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t stay. I have to go before I start thinking again because if I do…”